


Ten Seconds

by Tipsy_Kitty



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Fuck Or Die, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8003575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, hey, no, it's okay,” Bucky says, gently, and Steve feels bile pool at the back of his throat.</p><p>Because… because nothing about this is okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



> Heeroluva gave me so many amazing prompts and likes to work with that my brain kind of exploded :) Ultimately I ran with _I want to see Steve and/or Bucky hurt_ \+ _Fuck or Die_
> 
> Thanks to [kaesaria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kaesaria/pseuds/kaesaria), who read at least four different WIPs before I finally finished this one, and [firesign10](http://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10), who hopped fandoms to give me a final beta read. I of course made a bunch of edits after they looked at it, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also using this for the wildcard (non-con) square on my hc bingo card.

“Steve, hey… Stevie, need you to stay with me,” Bucky says. “Could use a little help here, pal.”

The wooden table shifts uneasily beneath their combined weight. 

They’re in a crummy office kitchen; fluorescent lights overhead, and the stale scents of burnt coffee and dirty microwaves cling to the air. A cheerily passive-aggressive note taped to the fridge reminds everyone that their mothers don’t work here.

Steve can't stop staring at that stupid note.

He wrenches his gaze away from the refrigerator and finally looks back up at Bucky, who’s staring down at him through the curtain of his hair.

“Help?”

“Yeah, Steve, give me something to work with here.”

Bucky’s hand is in Steve’s uniform, trying to coax an erection out of his extremely disinterested dick.

Because…

Because there are six masked HYDRA goons aiming automatic rifles at Sam’s head, and demanding that Steve… that he…

“Okay, breathe with me,” Bucky says, mercifully taking his hand away. “Can’t get this party going if you’re passing out on me, Rogers.”

Breathe. Yeah, he can do that. He can breathe. He can--

The HYDRA leader clears his throat. “Time’s ticking, boys. If you don’t want the Falcon’s brains decorating the walls, you’ll do as you were told.”

“Man, shut the hell up,” Sam says, and receives a boot to the gut for his trouble. He doubles over, wheezing, held up only by the guards gripping his arms, and Steve feels his own body go numb and shocky again, ice coursing through his veins. 

Bucky mutters a curse under his breath. 

“No, hey, Steve, stay with me,” Bucky says, cupping his palm against Steve’s jaw, drawing him back to the surface. “We got this. Nothing we ain’t done before, right?”

“Nothing we--” a strangled laugh escapes Steve’s mouth, and he clicks his teeth together, horrified. “No, Buck, sorry, but no. We’ve never done this before. I never, I never raped you in a room full of HYDRA _assholes before_!” 

He’s shouting by the end.

“No, hey, no, it's okay,” Bucky says, gently, and Steve feels bile pool at the back of his throat.

Because… because nothing about this is okay.

This was supposed to be an easy mission. Slip one of Natasha's thumb drives into a Hydra server that would search for traces of Zola. This wasn’t supposed to be an active base, it was just a testing lab in the middle of a goddamn suburban office park. But they were made breaking in, and the place had quickly flooded with guards.

They’d fought of course, fought like hell, but Steve was still getting used to fighting without his shield, and then one of the guards electrocuted Bucky's arm, and Sam had been cornered, ceilings too low for him to fly out of danger... it had taken no more than 10 seconds for the HYDRA agents to gain the upper hand.

He turns anguished eyes to Sam, who says evenly, “You don’t have to do this, Cap. They’re going to kill us all anyway, you know it and I know it.”

That earns Sam a blow to the chin with a baton, and Steve knows, then, _knows_ he does have to do this.

_You fuck the soldier, Captain, and we might let your friend live. Nothing it's not used to, after all._

He looks away from Sam, ashamed, and says to Bucky, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky echoes, and smiles, actually _smiles_ , and Steve wants to cry. “Okay, let’s just…”

Bucky eases his right hand back into the hidden seam of Steve’s uniform, playing with the head of his dick, and Steve hopes like hell that he can get them through this.

Bucky’s naked; they’d stripped him and disabled his arm almost immediately. He’s kneeling on Steve’s thighs, naked in a room full of masked HYDRA agents, and Steve can’t help but wonder how many times this has happened before, how many times Bucky has been naked and cornered by HYDRA soldiers on power trips. Everyone but Sam and Steve is treating this like just another day at work, even Bucky, and if Steve thinks about _that_ for too long…

Steve’s vision telescopes again, and Bucky brings him back down to earth with a gentle thumb to his jaw.

“You told me,” Steve hisses, fear turning to hot anger in his gut, “you told me they never…” and Bucky shrugs, one shouldered.

“Might have not told you everything,” Bucky says softly, glancing over his shoulder. Two of the guards are laughing, low and dirty, and Bucky lowers his gaze to the floor. “Might've thought some things, you wouldn't wanna know.”

And Steve thinks maybe going into the ice and slowly freezing to death as his souped-up body fought to heal was probably less painful than this.

“Steve, Stevie, it’s okay. Ignore them. Just you and me. Just us. And Sam’s watching, but you know, he's into that kinda thing, so it’s okay.”

“What? Man, fuck you exhibitionist assholes,” Sam says, and Steve has to bite back another hysterical laugh.

“Get on with it, Captain,” says the leader, sounding bored.

Bucky’s bravado sounds more like the kid he grew up with in Brooklyn Heights than he's been since the war. These days, Bucky is quiet and soft-spoken, hollow-eyed from the things these animals had done to him, had made him do… and Steve realizes with a sick lurch that Bucky's playing a part, playing a part for _Steve_ to help _him_ through this, drawing on fragments of memory, maybe, or the footage of one of their ridiculous war films…

“--not fucking him dry,” he hears Bucky snap at one of the guards. Someone throws him a small foil packet, and Bucky catches it easily with his right hand, tears it open with his teeth.

“Better, right?” Bucky says as he reaches for Steve again, hand now covered in slick. “Yeah, that’s better, just you and me, Steve, just gonna…”

And then he’s teasing Steve’s dick against his hole.

Bucky’s not stretched at all, Steve has time to think, before Bucky starts bearing down on him, head lowered so Steve can't see his face.

“Nazis throw the weirdest fucking office parties,” Sam says, and Bucky huffs a small laugh, puff of air blowing his hair out of his face. Steve feels Bucky relax around his cock as he sinks down further.

“You should see their potlucks,” Bucky says, and Sam barks a laugh that’s followed quickly by the cracking sound of one of his fingers breaking and a soft grunt of pain. 

“Anyway, it's good, right?” Bucky says, half-smile curving his lips, drawing Steve's attention from Sam's pained face, taking Steve all the way in until he’s settled against Steve’s hips. “Yeah, you like that, don't you, like getting all up in me.”

And he does, he loves being inside Bucky, feeling Bucky’s muscles twitch around his cock. Just, not like this. Never like this.

“Yeah, Buck,” he says hoarsely. “You know I do.”

“This is all very romantic,” the leader says drily, “but not exactly the show we asked you to put on.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky says, not to the guard but to Steve. “Yeah Steve, this is nice, but I need you to, I need you to really give it to me, yeah?” He slides his right hand under Steve’s shoulder and says “Flip me, okay? Want you to flip me over and give it to me good, Steve. You know I like it rough, you know I can take it.”

And that’s… not true, not anymore, not since they were kids desperately rutting against each other. These days Bucky likes it slow and sweet, likes to be praised and petted and worshipped.

“Please, Steve,” Bucky says, more urgency in his voice, and Steve hears _Please don’t make it worse, Steve,_ or maybe _please don’t let them get bored…_ and yeah, okay, he can do this. He can do this. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s back and flips them over so he’s on top, Bucky spread out beneath him, looking achingly vulnerable with his metal arm hanging limp and dead and…

And…

Bucky sees him glance at the arm and says “Harder, Steve, come on,” and Steve starts pumping into him faster, lips pressing in closer to Bucky’s throat.

“They don’t know,” Bucky says, too low for anyone with normal hearing to make out. “They don’t know it’s different.” He throws his head back and cries out like he's in pain but he gives Steve the tiniest wink as he does.

They don’t know, and why would they? King T’Challa’s engineers had made a lighter and better version of the Hydra prosthesis but it looked essentially the same. The vibranium has a slightly darker cast to it than the original adamantium, but not really noticeable unless you were looking for it. But the HYDRA goons had done something with one of their stun batons that made Bucky scream--that, Steve was pretty sure, had been real--and then the arm had seemingly powered down.

“That’s better, Captain, I knew you had it in you,” the leader says, but it’s getting easier to tune him out, to pretend it really is just him and Bucky, and Bucky’s clenching around him and it feels, Christ, it feels good, Bucky’s making him feel so good even here, with this terrible audience. The guards at least seem to be paying more attention to them than Sam at the moment, grips loosening around their stocks, hands drifting towards their pants.

“Maybe we got time to do Cap too?” one of them asks hopefully, like Steve hadn’t fucking offered _anything_ to leave Bucky out of this already, and his vision goes red with rage, but...

“Feels so good, Stevie, you always make me feel so good, always did,” Bucky says, once again centering him, and Steve realizes Bucky’s hard, grinding up against Steve’s belly, thrusting in time with Steve.

“Gonna, I’m gonna,” Steve says, and then he comes with a low moan, ecstasy and shame roiling through him till he can’t tell where one stops and the other starts. 

He frees one hand from the tangle of Bucky’s hair to slide it between their bodies, give Bucky’s cock a tug.

“Yeah, that’s it, make me feel good, Stevie, make me feel like a ten,” Bucky says, loud enough for Sam to hear, to catch the signal.

Steve’s breathing heavily, sated and relaxed, but not pliant and used up like the guards were probably expecting. Seventy years of studying, of _experimenting_ , on Bucky and they still don't know squat about super soldiers. 

Steve glances over at Sam, who tilts his chin up incrementally, even as the countdown clock Bucky set for them ticks down in his head.

Nine

“Well done, Captain,” the leader says. “That was for taking Zola from us. As for Pierce…”

Eight

Sam will use the ballast of the men holding him to kick his powerful legs up, neutralize the weapons of the guards closest to him, twist out of the path of the rifles that have been aimed at his skull this whole time...

Seven

Steve will launch himself at them; he doesn’t have a shield but he still has a helluva right hook…

Six

And Bucky, Bucky can bat cleanup with his fully functioning arm…

Five

…and aren’t they gonna have a talk about _that_ later, Bucky sacrificing himself to get these HYDRA assholes off their guard…

Four

They can do this. And then they’ll take down the guards out in the hall. And the ones patrolling the perimeter.

Three

Steve takes one more look at the note on the refrigerator-- _Your mother doesn’t work here so clean up you’re mess :)_ \-- and imagines it splattered with the blood of everyone who’s ever hurt Bucky, ever.

Two

This will work. It has to. 

One


End file.
